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front room.
"Jack? Come in and join us, my dear fellow, we've been having a most interesting talk on world affairs."
I stuck my hat on the coat tree and sauntered in. Escott was at his ease in his leather chair and Barbara
was comfortably ensconced on the couch. Cigarette smoke swirled in the air above the brass lamp by the
window and each of them had had at least one mixed drink. For a man of Escort's quiet personal habits,
this was practically a New Year's blowout on Times Square.
Barbara patted an empty spot on the couch, smiling fondly at me. "Yes, do come in and help us solve
everything."
"Well, uhh& "
Escott gave me a very slight high sign, indicating he wanted more company. Not only could he be an
idiot, but he wanted a chaperon, too. To each his own, I thought, and dragged my mind away from
carnality and myself into the room. I sat on the other end of the couch from Barbara and smiled easily at
her. She returned it just as easily and still managed to inject it with a potent shot of her own special
electricity. Some people are like that, and her more than most. I wondered why she buried herself
working for a cheap tabloid instead of a larger paper.
"You're looking tired, Jack," she observed. "Are you all right?"
"I've been busy."
Escott was very interested, but said nothing because of Barbara's presence.
"Is this a social call?" I asked her.
"I like to think of all my visits as social calls, but not everyone is of the same mind on that."
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"Miss Steler came by with some news concerning Dimmy Wallace," Escott prompted.
"What news?"
She shifted forward a little and lost some of her affectations. "He's still being held on other charges, but
the police have dropped him as a suspect for Sandra Robley's murder."
I wasn't too surprised at that and said so.
"Then you don't think he did it anyway?"
"No, not really. Why did they drop the charges and what about Roller?"
"Both of them have an alibi for the time."
"What kind of alibi?"
"Wallace's car broke down on the other side of the city and a Father Philip Glover of St. Mary's and
two other priests stopped to play good Samaritan. They gave him a lift to a garage and back again, then
stayed with him to make sure his car was in working order. He's covered for the whole time of Sandra's
murder and then some. Roller stayed behind, but went across the street to wait in a bar. There are
several witnesses to confirm that."
"It's too good to be true. Are you sure about these priests?"
"Father Glover is a well-known figure and has served the parish for the last twenty years or so."
"What about the bar?"
"It's one of those little neighborhood taverns where everyone knows everyone else. That's why they
noticed Roller; he didn't seem to fit in."
"What were they doing on the other side of town?"
"Minding their own business, they claim. Perhaps they were on a collection trip, but all that really matters
is that their alibi is solid and now Alex is back as suspect number one."
"But he nearly got killed himself because he thought Wallace and Roller did it."
"Which doesn't matter to the police. All they know is that he was closely involved with Sandra and can't
account for his time that night."
"And that he's under a cloud from another woman's death."
Her look lanced through me with the same kind of force and intent as Wallace's gunshot. Escott had
been quiet before, now he turned to stone waiting to see what happened. She drew a deep breath as
though to call me a few names, but changed her mind and let it out very slowly.
"I hope you will believe that I am trying to help him now. Or perhaps you're testing me again?" There
was enough ice in her voice to start a new glacier, a suitable contrast to the fire in her eyes.
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"We all need to be aware of what he's up against, that's why I mentioned it. I know you're trying to help,
or you wouldn't be here."
The fires banked, at least for the moment, but she was anything but happy at being reminded of her past
smear campaign.
"Are the cops planning to arrest him?" I asked.
"I think so, but word is they're waiting until they've finished talking with all of the Robleys' friends and
business contacts. Unless they turn up something from that end& " She shrugged.
"He will want a decent lawyer," said Escott.
She turned on him. "And do you think he's guilty?"
He was looking at me. I shook my head. "No, but he is in deep enough trouble to require one all the
same. Perhaps you know of someone who might be useful."
"I do, but what else can be done?"
"Little enough at the moment. We and the police require more information than is presently available."
"I suppose a signed confession from the murderer would be nice." She'd put an acid bite to her tone.
"It would be decidedly convenient. Who knows what the future may hold?"
Barbara did not share his optimism one bit. "Nothing more than a jail cell for the rest of Alex's life unless
we do something for him." The sarcasm had no effect on Escott, which annoyed her. She got her gloves
from her purse and started pulling them on. "Well, gentlemen, itis getting late. Jack, would you see me out
to my car? The street might not be very safe at this time of night."
I remembered the derringer she carried and figured she wanted talk, not protection, but walked her out
anyway.
"Howdo you put up with him?" she asked, turning and leaning back against the closed door of her car.
"It's mutual respect. Besides, he has to put up with me as well."
"Thatmust be amusing."
"We're doing what we can about this, Barbara."
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